Bao Yancheng rested one hand on the armrest, tapping the velvet fabric repeatedly with his slender index finger.
The man did not speak, yet his eyes brimmed with coldness and calculation.
Cheng Tong was all too familiar with this version of Bao Yancheng.
After working together for so many years, this was the expression he saw most often on Bao Yancheng's face.
Sometimes he wondered how the young Bao Yancheng managed to take care of himself.
Always with a droopy face, frowning as if beset by great hatred, yet no wrinkles appeared on his face...
Cheng Tong was staring blankly at Bao Yancheng when a familiar icy voice roused him.
"Don't zone out. Keep a close watch on Bao Yanzhen and don't startle the snake. Also, there's another thing—"
Before he could finish, Bao Yancheng's phone began to ring.
The man furrowed his brow with displeasure, irritation in his eyes from being interrupted.
In the past, his phone was always set to silent.